Talking Body
by Goblin Fruit
Summary: Barry and Iris work through some latent issues before their first time. Set early in Season 3, before Savitar. Smut, but like, romantic smut.


**Talking Body**

* * *

Iris West's apartment was ridiculously tiny, like three closets joined together. Her living room wouldn't even fit a couch, her kitchen had one foot of usable counter-space, and her full-sized mattress consumed the entirety of her bedroom… but Barry Allen felt like he entered the Garden of Eden tonight. Besides, it was difficult to look at the ugly little place when he was so preoccupied with kissing his _girlfriend_. She had struggled to get the door unlocked, distracted by him kissing her neck and nuzzling her ears, and they practically fallen inside.

"Spend the night?" she asked breathlessly.

"I'd love to," he murmured into her shoulder, lifting her easily and turning to press her against a dingy wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him into a deep kiss. He felt drunk for the first time since he was struck by lightning, almost giddy with anticipation. She still hadn't turned on the lights, so the room was dark except for the warm glow of the streetlights shining through the windows. He had been here often enough that he still found the door to her bedroom easily. He tipped forward so that they fell onto her unmade bed. Even less light intruded here, so he unbuttoned her blouse by touch and carefully tugged the silk shirt free from her long pencil skirt before throwing it across the room. While he worked, she returned the favor but abandoned his shirt after she finished unbuttoning it, letting it hang open over her while she reached for his belt. She silently thanked God, and Linda for encouraging her to get an IUD. When they finally got all of these clothes off they'd be skin to skin, in every way. She had just managed to unfasten the buckle when he palmed her breasts through her thin lace bra and squeezed.

She sighed happily and let the buckle slip through her fingers as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, enjoying his caresses for a moment before reaching out to her right for the chain on her bedside lamp. Her finger tips had just bumped into the ball at the end of chain, causing it to swing forward and hit the base of the lamp with a soft _ching!_ , when Barry vanished from above her with a rush of air and a flash of light, stumbling into the night stand and knocking the chain out of her hand.

"Barry? What's wrong?!" she sat up, half naked but totally confused.

"Um, oh nothing, I just– you know I was thinking it'd be better without the lamp. Not that light is bad, just you know, mood lighting… or mood darkness! Just–" he was babbling, nonsensical with embarrassment. He hoped another bolt of lightning would strike him and save him from this situation. _Who the hell waits fourteen years for one thing and then fucks it up in like 2 minutes? Barry fucking Allen, apparently._

"What? I don't understand. Why don't you want me to turn on the lights?" her voice was a study in contrast, calm and slow despite her confusion and surprise. She had learned a long time ago that Barry only chattered more if you got annoyed with him.

He stepped away from her nightstand and absentmindedly pulled his shirt closed, with his unfastened belt swaying with every motion. She couldn't see his face in the dim room but he seemed painfully uncomfortable

"I, I-uh… no of course not. I mean yes. Of course we can turn them on. If you want. Look, can we just forget this?"

He couldn't verbalize what he feeling or why he was hesitant, and the palpable sexual tension in Iris' tiny bedroom only made him more embarrassed. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks and had to resist the urge to _flash_ away to gather his thoughts. He needed salvage the evening before he pushed Iris away, and if that meant burying a bit of a trauma, well, Barry was a goddamn pro at that.

"Barry, please just tell me what's wrong. It's obviously important to you," she touched his arm briefly, "Is there… Is there some reason you don't want to look at me?"

Unlike Barry, Iris was rarely awkward or openly vulnerable and now she was both, fighting her instinct to put her shirt back on and ask him to leave. She knew Barry was worth fighting for, but she didn't know if she was prepared to help him come to terms with having a real relationship if he had idealized her beyond recognition. She always assumed that if… _when…_ they got together they'd just be best friends, but more. Now a nasty voice in her head questioned Barry's motives, trying to harden her against a heartbreaking rejection. _Is he afraid that I won't live up to his fantasies?_

Barry could hear the hurt behind her words and felt another stab of self-loathing for letting his issues affect her. He covered his face with his hands as if it would help, trying to slow his panicked heartbeat and ignore the sense of profound humiliation rising in his chest. "Of course I want to look at you, Iris. I've wanted to be with you for so long but I – In all the _hundreds_ of scenarios I've imagined, I've never been able to come up with _one_ where you want me in the same way that I want you. Romantically? You know, maybe. But this… I guess I still don't really believe you want to do _this_ with me. Not really. And I thought that if the lights were off… then maybe it wouldn't be so bad and maybe you'd –"

"Bar-ry," Iris implored, taking both of his hands, "I can't believe that you think I'm not going to enjoy being with you. I love you! And I'm attracted to you. You're smart, and funny, and handsome. I mean, you're _the Flash_ –" he snatched his hands away abruptly.

"But I'm not! I'm not when I'm with you!" He couldn't even yell properly. His vocal cords started to vibrate at the end, a tick he'd fought to control since he first got his speed. He paced in the tiny space between the bed and the wall, futilely trying to channel some of his agitation into motion.

"I don't underst–"

"Iris," he turned abruptly and crouched down slightly to look her in the eye, "when I'm with you, like this, I'm not a hero, I'm not a CSI– hell, I'm not even 28. It's like I'm 15 all over again and trying to get Coach Mulligan to let me swim with a shirt on because otherwise _you're_ going to look at me. And I'm going to see the exact moment you decide that you're too nice to laugh at me!" His words ring out too loudly in the small space, and the silence that follows is heavy and tense. He straightens and looks away when he finishes his confession, angry with himself for ruining the night _again_ and even angrier at the lump in his throat and the stinging tears welling up in his eyes.

Her protective instincts, twenty-two years in the making, swelled in her chest as she stood and reached up to put her hands on his shoulders, closing the distance between them. "Hey. First of all, I would never laugh at you like that. I don't know who you think I am, Barry Allen, but I am not some movie villain popular girl that you have to win over. I'm your best friend! And for the record–" her voice slowly lost its indignation, becoming soft and shy, "I have always liked the way you look. When I remember you swimming in high school, I remember thinking that I hadn't seen you shirtless in a few years. I remember thinking that _this,_ " she paused to run her thumb gently over the trail of hair running down Barry's stomach, causing his breathing to hitch a little, "was new. And when I couldn't stop thinking about it for two days I asked Jeremy McCahn out because I figured I was horny."

Her words stirred up so many emotions, comforting and titillating him at the same time. He wanted to kiss her so badly, to channel both his overwhelming affection and increasing lust into one physical act, but his curiosity froze him in place, hanging on her words.

"I remember before Dad taught you to shave, we were playflighting… your stubble brushed against the back of my neck and I liked it so much that I made that tenth grader I was sneaking around with try it the next time we made out… but it wasn't the same. Just like when I bought Eddie the same aftershave you like, but on him it smelled like bad cologne, so I lied and said I bought the wrong one." Now Iris was blushing and a little breathless, but the faint gleam of Barry's smile made her braver.

She reached out to her right and pulled the lamp cord, watching his face to make sure it was okay. She had forgotten that her blouse was already on the floor, and Barry was momentarily distracted by the sight of her in her sexiest red bra, by her breasts nearly spilling over the sheer lace cups thanks to their earlier antics. She stood on tiptoes and wrapped him in a hug, hoping to soothe away any lingering insecurity.

Her movement shook Barry out of his frankly embarrassing enthrallment, pulling him back to the moment with an exquisitely sensual embrace. He could feel her nipples against his chest through the soft fabric of her bra and she kept running her fingertips lightly across his back, raising goosebumps. None of his previous lovers had worn anything this sheer or touched him so gently, which probably spoke to how out of his depth he was with Iris but somehow he didn't mind.

"Is this okay?" she asked, starting to tug his unbuttoned shirt down from his shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and hummed happily in response and then she felt his hands cup her ass through the fabric of her skirt as he deftly tugged down the zipper.

They slowly undressed one another, kicking their nice clothes into a heap on the floor, uncharacteristically shy and quiet. To Barry's surprise, he found that the sexiest thing about being naked with Iris wasn't seeing her– though that was, um, wow– it was feeling the weight of her gaze linger over his body, knowing that he was free to want her and was wanted in kissed him with renewed urgency, and the vestiges of awkwardness between them finally melted away.

It was the most surreal first time either of them had experienced. They explored each other's bodies enthusiastically, laughing quietly like children at a sleepover. Yet their hands seemed to find all the secret places naturally, as if they'd been together many times before and had all the expertise to please each other. Barry had never felt less need to think, to map out his lover's body and plan out a strategy to impress. Iris had never felt so wrapped up in a moment, her senses full of him, his scent and moans and trembling need. Their minds didn't wander beyond the corners of her mattress, lost in the warm haze of their embrace.

Barry wasn't sure how long they lingered, entranced, but soon his dick was painfully hard against Iris's thigh, and the lips of her cunt glistened with desire. She _ached_ for him. He had planned so many things for their first time together, wanting to impress her and keep her from regretting it… but he hadn't been prepared to _feel_ so much. The tension between them peaked as he touched her sex reverently, leaving no space for words or time for delay. Staring into his eyes, Iris wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips to meet him as he slid his dick into the hot core of her body. They gasped together and tiny sparks crackled at every point of contact.

"Oh my God, Iris," he shivered in pleasure, which for him meant that his whole body vibrated slightly as he curled his toes and started to thrust into her. She cried out in surprise and pleasure, gripping his waist hard and throwing her head to the side, unable to catch her breath and process the newest assault on her senses.

"Barry," she said breathlessly, "does… _that…_ normally h-happen?" Some small, petty part of her really hoped that Patty or Linda had never seen this side of him. He just laughed and shook his head, which earned him little kisses and love bites all over his neck and shoulders. _What other girls?_

He was overwhelmed with _Iris_ , her lips against his neck, her nails lightly dragging down his back and tracing circles on his ass cheeks, meeting every thrust as her legs trembled and her walls tightened around his dick.

"Fuck," he growled, closing his eyes and shivering again before thrusting faster, desperate for release but fighting not to cum before her. His low voice and uncontrolled vibration almost sent her over the edge, but it was looking at him that finally did it. His lips were parted, eyes fluttering closed, straining to please her yet delighting in the pleasure she gave him. She let herself lose control, giving in to total ecstasy and clinging to him as she cried out, falling apart and trusting him put her back together. Barry couldn't have maintained control if his life depended on it, so he came with a hoarse cry, continuing to thrust throughout his release until he finally collapsed on top of her. They laid together and caught their breath, reluctant to break the embrace that gave them both so much pleasure. Finally, he slowly pulled out and rolled onto his back, smiling at the ceiling as he put his hands behind his head. Her eyes roamed over his body as he moved, appreciating his long limbs and taut abs and tiny freckles.

"Thank you," she whispered, "I love looking at you."

"Thank you," he replied, "I can't believe I almost gave _this_ up for a hookup in the dark."

She laughed and swatted his arm, "I'm not a bump in the night kind of girl."

"No," he agreed softly, "You're the most beautiful woman in the world." He had always thought that, secretly when they were just friends, shamefully when he was with other women, but the sentiment no longer made him feel sad and inadequate. Even he couldn't feel awkward after mindblowing sex. Iris West was looking at him, and for the first time in his life he felt completely comfortable under her gaze.

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A/N: Trying to get my groove back.


End file.
